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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933563">Running Down the Garden Path</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springmagpies/pseuds/Springmagpies'>Springmagpies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>As We Drabble Along [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, dad!fitz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:27:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springmagpies/pseuds/Springmagpies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitzsimmons Family + Homecoming</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>As We Drabble Along [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Running Down the Garden Path</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There were many things Fitz loved about being a father. He loved watching his daughter grow--though there were times it felt like she was growing up too fast, he loved when she learned something new and couldn’t wait to tell him about it, he loved hearing her giggle from a room over or hear Jemma reading her a book. Nights where the three of them curled up on the couch, snuggled under a blanket and watching a movie, were always his favorites and he could simply watch his daughter sleep until the sun rose--that is if he wasn’t so exhausted himself and could fall asleep standing up if it came to it. But one of the things that never failed to make him smile was coming home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter if he had just been to the shops for half an hour to purchase a gallon of milk or if he had been gone a whole day, Alya always greeted him the same way. She always propelled herself forward with her arms outstretched and a smile as bright as sunshine dancing across her face. She’d call for him and he would bend down to catch her as her arms flew around his neck. Sometimes she wouldn’t even wait for him to get through the front gate before she came flying at him, swinging open the front door with such force that Jemma would have to remind her not to slam it against the wall on accident. Still, the little one would fly past the threshold, bound away down the garden path, and greet her father with a hug that felt to him like home. </span>
</p>
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